Baby's Breath and a Shoe Full of Rice
by starry19
Summary: 7x13 Tag - "Lisbon joined him in this, muttering darkly about how this had better be the last damn time she had to do this. Sometimes he forgot how much her life had been uprooted this past year and a half. By his count, this was the third time in eighteen months she'd loaded her possessions into cardboard boxes."


**AN:** Hi! I know - long time, no stories. This is a one shot (I'm sorry!) set post White-Orchids. Also, this is probably the last post-series fic from me for a while. I've been rewatching season 1, and it has set my brain to working. If I were you, I'd look for an early-episodes AU coming before too terribly long. I'm having some serious CBI feels right now, and it's going to be my therapy.

The title comes from a line in the song Freshmen. It doesn't really apply - I just thought it sounded wedding and baby-ish. And no alliteration! Sorry!

**Baby's Breath and a Shoe Full of Rice**

They both went back to work the Monday after their wedding. Jane had casually mentioned a honeymoon, but Lisbon had gently eased the suggestion aside, commenting that she wasn't going anywhere tropical until she could drink again.

Like always, the reference to their baby had made him smile.

He had already crossed out the words "second bedroom" on the floor plan of their house, replacing them with "nursery."

However, that was _all_ he'd managed to get done in regards to their future house. The past two days had been full of well-wishers, both friends and family. It was with a bit of a shock that he'd realized Lisbon's family was now _his_ family as well. He was suddenly a brother in law, an uncle, a cousin by marriage.

He loved it.

He had a sense of belonging now, of peace and security. He hadn't fully grasped how much he'd missed it until he had it back.

Still, he was grateful for Sunday night, when all of the guests had gone their separate ways, and he was finally able to have his wife to himself.

He'd been keeping a close eye on her. Well, he _always_ kept a close eye on her, but more so since she'd shared her news. If she thought he was overprotective before...she had no idea what was coming. He made sure she was rarely out of arm's length, taking every opportunity to bring her closer to him.

She was tired, he knew that, after a few days (more like weeks) of physical and emotional exhaustion. Regardless, though, she was the one to rise up on her toes and kiss him in the entryway of her house. _Their_ house, he amended, even if it was Lisbon's name on the deed. They had set up camp at her place, the idea being that it was much easier to host people there than in an Airstream built for two.

"Are they all gone?" she whispered in between feverish kisses.

He rested his hands heavily on her hips. "I hope so," he breathed, opening one eye just far enough to check that the deadbolt was in place.

It was, and he scooped her up, nearly running down the hall to the bedroom.

After, she fell asleep almost immediately, head on his chest, one leg hooked over his. He laid awake for a while later, thinking, dreaming, smiling.

They were going to be parents. It still felt a little like a dream, something out of one of his most private fantasies.

And the idea that he hadn't suspected before she'd teased him with her words...he was slipping.

Or, maybe, he was just distracted by getting kidnapped by a serial killer, planning a wedding, and then catching said serial killer.

That seemed a bit more likely.

Lisbon snuggled closer in her sleep, and he responded by softly stroking her hair, his other hand coming across his body to rest lightly on her still-flat abdomen. He'd been careful about making this gesture the past weekend, not wanting to give away their secret until they were ready.

But now...he felt a deep sense of rightness. It was going to be the three of them now, their little family.

In the morning, Lisbon grumped around as she slowly sipped her coffee. He hoped she was savoring it - she wasn't getting any more the rest of the day.

He made breakfast, already worrying about her protein levels as he scrambled eggs. Her tendency to skip meals when he wasn't watching was coming to an abrupt end. She didn't do it for any sort of dieting reason - she just tended to get absorbed in her work.

Looking a bit more awake, she wandered into the kitchen, probably drawn by the aroma of bacon. He kissed her cheek, handing her a plate.

"Sit," he said, nodding at the small kitchen table.

She did, laying a napkin across her lap before picking up her fork. He sat down in the seat beside her, his own plate in hand.

"So," he said slowly. "Are we going to tell Cho?"

She blinked. "Already?"

"Why not?" he countered. "I'm sorry if I sound old-fashioned, but I don't particularly want you tackling suspects to the ground for the next, oh, year."

She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but then thought through what he was saying. No, she really shouldn't be taking down perps. She knew that. The baby was due in about 35 weeks, plus another three months of maternity leave, in which she _absolutely_ wasn't tackling anyone.

After a second, she spoke again. "Can we wait, just for a few weeks? If I promise to be careful?"

He frowned. "Why?"

She let out a deep breath, one of her nervous habits. "It's just...I want to keep this to ourselves, just for a little longer." There was something more there, something she hadn't said.

He reached across the table, running his thumb across her knuckles. "Any particular reason?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Just...just in case," she almost whispered. "In case something goes wrong. I don't want to...to have to tell everyone that."

He tipped her chin up, and he saw her very real fear. Immediately, he pushed back from the table and pulled her into his lap.

She came willingly, face turned into his neck while he ran his hands soothingly down her back. He heard her sniffle once.

"It's all right," he breathed. "Everything is going to be fine," he promised.

"You don't know that," she argued, voice shaky.

He was still getting used to this overly-emotional version of the woman he had known for so long. And, more than that, he could understand her fears.

"No," he admitted, "I don't know that. But I do know that we are going to do everything humanly possible to ensure that this baby makes it safely into the world. And besides, I think the universe owes me some good luck." The last sentence slipped out unconsciously.

Tenderly, she kissed his jaw, his temple, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Unexpectedly, she laughed. "I hope every breakfast doesn't turn out to be this tearful."

He couldn't help his smile. "Too bad no one got us tissues as a wedding present."

She swiped at her eyes and glanced up at the clock. "We need to get going."

He nodded, not bothering to look. "In a minute. Eat a little more first."

She raised her eyebrows, but humored him. He did catch her looking longingly at the coffee pot as they walked out the door, and he hid his amusement.

Someone (he strongly suspected Wylie) had changed Lisbon's screensaver to read "JUST MARRIED."

He spent the majority of his morning on the phone with various contractors, having bowed to the idea that he alone wasn't going to be able to get the cabin finished before the baby was born. Despite the importance that he had originally placed on remodeling the place himself, he'd discovered it was much _more_ important that it just be done.

He intended to personally add some whimsical touches, give it some character, but that could and would wait. Hand-carved newel posts were less urgent than running water, for example. Or walls.

Occasionally, he caught himself playing with his new wedding ring. It was almost strange, how different this one felt than the last one. He had worn that for almost half of his life, knew every single scratch in it, could have picked it out from a box of a thousand similar bands.

This one was broader, heavier, made of brushed platinum. And it mattered every bit as much as the old one did, nestled next to Lisbon's heart.

Around ten, he brought her a bottle of water, sitting on the edge of her desk with a pointed look. She rolled her eyes, but dutifully twisted the cap off.

"Oh, hey," she called, just as he was walking back to his couch. "I almost forgot." She lowered her voice. "I have a doctor's appointment on Thursday. Do you want to come?"

"Yes," he said instantaneously. "In fact, I want to come to all of them."

She looked startled for a moment. "Okay," she slowly replied. "I mean, if you want."

Despite the retaliation he knew would be coming, he stole a kiss. "I do."

"Jane!" she hissed, hurriedly turning back to her computer.

He chuckled. "It's okay," he smirked. "We're married, or have you forgotten?"

She ignored him, beginning to type rapidly.

Still laughing, he settled back on the couch.

Two days later, he saw their baby's heartbeat on the ultrasound screen, holding Lisbon's hand with trembling fingers. She had been quiet most of the morning, and he knew she was wondering if there would be something wrong. She was so used to being in control of every aspect of her life (except him) that the idea she couldn't do something to affect the development of this baby, not really, made her feel helpless and a little afraid.

But her smile was bright, exuberant. It was also stunned.

"Wow," she whispered, staring at the screen.

"I know," he murmured back, enthralled.

He hung the ultrasound picture on the refrigerator at her house. She shook her head indulgently at him, but smiled.

Two weeks later, he emerged from the shower to find what appeared to be an explosion of clothing on the bed.

Lisbon, dressed only in her bra and panties, was standing in front of the open closet door, arms crossed, expression irate.

Exercising extreme caution, he edged into the room. He could hazard a guess at the problem, but long years of experience taught him that she should be the one to explain.

"What's the matter?"

She didn't look at him, choosing instead to glare furiously at her wardrobe as though it had personally offended her. "Nothing _fits_!" she practically shrieked. "Look at me! I'm a huge bloated cow already!"

With effort, he bit back a smile. Stepping closer, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You are definitely not," he said.

He remembered Angela having a similar meltdown. Apparently women who had been slender all of their lives did not take kindly to suddenly expanding waistlines. In truth, Lisbon had gained very little weight, and most of the bloat was just that - bloat. He also knew, and just as truthfully, that telling her those facts would do absolutely no good.

Instead, he kissed her, told her she was the most gorgeous woman in the world, and offered to take her shopping that afternoon.

Somewhat appeased, she found a pair of pants in the very back of the closet that she could button.

The basic framework on the cabin was done, transforming it from a rundown shack to a larger, unfinished structure. But the progress made him happy, and he started to slowly pack some things from the house into boxes.

Lisbon joined him in this, muttering darkly about how this had better be the last damn time she had to do this. Sometimes he forgot how much her life had been uprooted this past year and a half. By his count, this was the third time in eighteen months she'd loaded her possessions into cardboard boxes.

Later that night, he grinned as Rigsby and Van Pelt appeared on Lisbon's laptop screen.

"Hey, you two!" Grace said, a squirmy Maddie on her lap.

They had news. Jane could tell immediately. His first guess was another baby.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

"So, we've been thinking," Rigsby said, stealing a glance at his wife. "And we're moving to Austin."

"I mean," Grace interrupted, "we can run digital security from about anywhere, and Texas has pretty decent weather year-round."

"And," Rigsby continued, "we miss you guys."

Beside him, Lisbon was speechless. "That's great," he said, meaning it sincerely. "Really, it's wonderful."

"I'm so excited," Lisbon finally said. "I can't wait to have everyone together."

"I hope you guys are ready to babysit," Grace joked.

Carefully, he took Lisbon's hand. She squeezed his fingers, then took a deep breath. "Sure," she said easily. "But only if you return the favor for us."

There were a few moments of shocked silence. Grace figured it out a second before her husband. "Oh, my God!" she screamed. "Really?"

Laughing, Jane nodded. "Really."

"Surprise," Lisbon said weakly.

Four months later, they spent their first night in their mostly finished cabin. Jane had lost track of how much he had paid in overtime, but every penny had been more than worth it.

The very next day, the nursery furniture arrived, and his heart swelled almost unbearably as he watched Lisbon carefully make up the bed in the crib, saw her tenderly smooth the fluffy yellow blankets, hang tiny clothes in the closet.

There was a moment, sitting together in the living room that night, when he realized that he was intending on spending the rest of his life in this house. After living like a nomad, a vagabond for so long, he had put down roots firmly.

He took Lisbon's hand, kissed the wedding ring on her finger, then leaned over and pressed his lips against her burgeoning stomach. He was rewarded with a kick, and he smiled.

"You know," she commented, running her hands through his hair, "we've come a long way from the first moment we met."

"Yes, we certainly have," he agreed easily.

"I'm glad we get to go the rest of the way together," she continued, uncharacteristically sentimental.

"Me, too," he whispered.

Lisbon curled up next to him, head on his shoulder, both of them resting their hands on her stomach.

He kissed her hair, and he knew he would never forget this moment.


End file.
